


truth sets you free

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Jaskier has been hiding something from Geralt for a long, long time. Not because felt like he needed to - he trusted Geralt, really - but the perfect moment to tell the truth just never really presented itself. But that changes when he finds Geralt searching for the djinn.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 21
Kudos: 837





	truth sets you free

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

It’d been months since they last saw each other when Jaskier stumbled upon Geralt searching for the djinn. He knew right away that his favorite Witcher was struggling with something; for one, djinns were dangerous creatures – _he_ would know – and two, he looked a mess, his hair sticking up oddly and deep bags under his eyes.

He didn’t even know the Witcher _could_ get bags under his eyes. Huh.

“I just want some _sleep!_ ” Geralt exploded, nearly tearing out his own hair. “Is that too much to ask for?”

Jaskier leaned against a tree, watching him as he fished for a djinn. How very barbaric. At first, Jaskier had hid his true nature from the Witcher because he didn’t know the man, didn’t know if he could be trusted with the truth or not. He had always hid it from humans, yes, because he knew they would hunt him down if they ever found out what he was capable of but the Witcher – _Geralt_ , he had began to trust over the years. He knew the man; knew he’d never hurt him or use him.

And now he was searching for one of his own. To help him with such a measly problem, too. Jaskier could grant that wish with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back. No point in getting another djinn involved, especially knowing how they could be. Selfish, malevolent little pricks.

(Again, Jaskier would know.)

“Let me help,” he said, but Geralt did not even look at him, just threw the net back in the water.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and pushed off from the tree, walking over to the edge of the water. Geralt pulled the net out of the water and there, sitting in it, was a djinn. Jaskier could feel the power coming off the canister, trapping it. His heart jumped as Geralt grabbed the canister.

“No, no,” he exclaimed, snatching it from him. Geralt frowned, displeased, and tried to take it back.

“Let me have it,” he growled, but Jaskier was not budging.

“You do not need it,” he assured him. “ _I_ will help you.”

Geralt growled again, pulling harder, “And how will you do that?”

Jaskier opened his mouth, preparing to tell the truth, when the canister suddenly popped open, the lid flying and landing in the dirt a few feet away. He stared at it. “Fuck.” The wind started to pick up around them. He looked at Geralt. “Something bad is about to happen – ”

Before he could even finish his warning, he felt it; an uncomfortable prickling in the back of his throat.

He doubled over in pain and Geralt dropped the canister, rushing over. He helped to steady him, a hand on his back. “I don’t understand,” he said, helping Jaskier to his feet. “Stop it,” Geralt growled to the empty air as he led Jaskier to Roach. Jaskier just waved him off, knowing it wouldn’t work.

The djinn wasn’t bonded to Geralt; he had attacked Jaskier because the djinn knew that was the easiest path to freedom. If a djinn attacked another djinn and killed them, they were released. A loophole. But it wouldn’t be easy; most djinns were evenly matched. It was frankly a lucky draw who won.

Jaskier fought it, even as Geralt mounted Roach and rode them to the closest town in search of help.

He wanted to tell Geralt it was a pointless fret; no one could help. Jaskier had to do this himself, had to fight the djinn and win. But he still went in search of a mage and found Yennefer. Jaskier was conscious for most of it, up until Geralt placed him in a lush bed and he was pulled under by the other djinn.

“Fuck,” Geralt cursed. “What happened?” He glared at Yennefer. “Why aren’t you helping him?”

She walked over and eyed him for a moment. “I can’t,” she said, and Geralt growled, throwing his hands out in disbelief, “What do you mean _can’t_?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “He was not simply attacked by the djinn,” she said. “They’re attacking each other.”

Geralt blinked. “And what the fuck does _that_ mean?” he asked, shuffling closer to the bed. He watched as Jaskier’s eyes moved from side-to-side under his eyelids, frantic. His hands twitched, clutching loosely at the silk sheets.

“I _think_ ,” she drawled, “your little bard has been hiding some things from you, dear Witcher.”

Geralt frowned, “Like what?”

Yennefer shrugged primly and walked around the bed, patting his shoulder. “You should ask him when – well, _if_ he wakes up,” she said, perfectly calm. Geralt wanted to rip her hair out. She smiled, just the barest hint of teeth, and walked to the door. “Let me know if anything changes. Until then, your friend is on his own.”

Geralt debated going after her, but he knew it’d be pointless. She didn’t seem entirely trustworthy, no, but he could hear her heartbeat; she hadn’t been lying. Sighing, he sat down, the bed creaking under his weight.

He waited and waited and _waited_. Nothing changed; Jaskier stayed under for hours.

Yennefer returned eventually with some food. Geralt wasn’t very hungry. “What good will any of this be if your little bard wakes up and you’re dead from starvation?” she remarked, and he grumbled, grabbing a piece of bread. He tore it up and threw piece after piece in his mouth, chewing angrily. “Watch it,” she said, walking to the door again. “You might break a tooth.”

Geralt did not sleep, not for two days. Yennefer eventually convinced him to take a bath, at least. He sat in the hot water and closed his eyes, trying to make sense of the situation. He had always assumed Jaskier was human - the bard had never given any inclination that he wasn’t - but now that he thought about it… Jaskier had never really _aged_ , not even over their many years of knowing each other, and he somehow never died despite having the fighting skills of a two-year-old.

“You might want to hurry up,” he heard Yennefer from the other side of the curtains.

Opening his eyes, he hurried out of the bath and dried off before pulling his clothes back on. He ran out of the washroom and down the hall. Yennefer was nowhere to be seen, and he realized why when he opened the door; she was standing over a convulsing Jaskier. His stomach churned at the sight.

“What’s happening?” he asked as he approached the bed.

Yennefer watched Jaskier closely, “He’s still fighting the djinn, but I’m assuming it’s almost over.”

Geralt gestured wildly at the bard. “Can’t you do _something?”_

She barely looked at him. “Like what?”

“I don’t know!” he replied harshly. “Something to help ensure that he wins.”

Yennefer folded her arms over her chest. “Mages can only do so much, especially when involving mythical creatures.” She tilted her head. “Especially such powerful ones.” Her eyes cut over. “Did you really not know he wasn’t human?”

Geralt sighed, still watching Jaskier. “No,” he admitted gruffly. “He never said anything, and I never felt anything off about him.”

Jaskier let out a sudden shriek and the windows shattered, glass shards flying at them from all directions. Yennefer lifted her arms, fast, and stopped them midair. Slowly turning her wrists, the shards fell to the ground, one by one.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Geralt said.

Yennefer nodded. “I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not.” She took a step back. “We should probably go.”

“No,” he snarled without missing a beat, “I’m not leaving him.”

Yennefer stopped by the door. “Are you an idiot?”

“No,” he replied, never taking his eyes off Jaskier. “I’m his friend.”

She sighed deeply and opened the door, pausing for a second. “Come get me if he wakes up. I _do_ wish to help, but I am not suicidal.” With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Geralt stepped closer to the bed, glass breaking under his feet. He sat down on the edge of the bed and found one of Jaskier’s hands. He was sweating badly and his hand convulsed every few seconds. Geralt gripped it, tight.

“You can do this, Jaskier,” he said. “Don’t give up.”

As soon as the words had left Geralt’s mouth, Jaskier went limp. Geralt’s stomach churned again. He squeezed his hand, staring at his face. His eyes had fallen shut again. Geralt realized, with a start, that he wasn’t breathing. His heartbeat had stilled. Geralt quickly went to work, trying to restart it.

He pressed on his chest, waited a few seconds, did it again.

“Jaskier,” he said, “ _Jaskier_.”

Suddenly his eyes opened and he gasped. Geralt leaned over him. “G–Geralt,” he said, blindly reaching for him. Geralt grabbed his hands, bringing them together and holding them. “I - fuck, I _did_ it.” Jaskier laughed/sobbed; Geralt wasn’t quite sure.

He opened his mouth to reply, probably starting with _what the fuck, Jaskier?_ , when suddenly the lid to the djinn’s canister appeared on the bed. Geralt stared at it, silent, and helped Jaskier to sit up. “Are we supposed to - ” he started to ask, but the lid slowly turned to dust in front of them. Jaskier leaned against Geralt.

“I won,” he said, like that explained anything at all.

Geralt pulled back. “Jaskier,” he said, now that they were most likely safe, “What the _fuck_?”

Jaskier smiled a little sheepishly. “Oh, yeah, uh, I was going to tell you earlier before, you know - ” he gestured around aimlessly. “But I’m not exactly human.” Geralt raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Right,” Jaskier said, staring down at their hands, still intertwined. Geralt didn’t seem in any rush to pull them apart. “I’m a djinn,” he said. “Um, but I was released a long, long time ago.”

Geralt didn’t reply at first. Jaskier looked up, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Please say something,” he said. “I didn’t _want_ to keep it from you, to be fair, but it’s dangerous, Geralt. Djinns are sought after, even free ones. I couldn’t just go around - ”

Geralt squeezed his hands, surprising him. “I know,” he replied gruffly. “Don’t apologize for protecting yourself.”

Jaskier nodded, growing silent. He continued to stare at their hands.

“That’s how you kept surviving, though, even when a human would’ve died,” Geralt said, mostly to himself. He looked thoughtful. “And how you never aged.”

Jaskier smiled again, still sheepish. “I just hoped you’d think I had really, _really_ good genes.”

Geralt snorted, and Jaskier’s smile turned a bit more confident. He knew Geralt wouldn’t be angry at him. He scooted closer and Geralt looked up, an almost amused quirk to his lips. Releasing his hands, he reached over where Yennefer had left a bucket of warm water with a rag in it. The water had cooled, obviously, but Geralt still thought it was better than nothing.

He dipped the rag and turned back to Jaskier. “Here,” he said gruffly. “You’re covered in sweat.”

Jaskier nodded. He stayed mostly silent as Geralt ran the rag over his forehead, down his neck, over his shoulders. Finally, Geralt dropped the rag back in the bucket. “You have magic,” Geralt said, like he was just now realizing it. “Why haven’t you ever used it?”

Jaskier looked away. “I do,” he said. “All the time.”

Geralt watched him. “When? _How?”_

“Well,” Jaskier said, tilting his head back and forth. He almost looked embarrassed, cheeks tinged pink. Geralt suddenly found himself studying every inch of Jaskier, intrigued by him and how _human_ he looked. He supposed djinns, with their powers, could take the form of anything they wanted, so it made sense. “Do you remember that time, uh… when we were together last and you almost fell off the edge of that cliff, while fighting that beast?”

Geralt narrowed his eyes, already connecting the dots. “I never did understand that.”

Jaskier smiled, sheepish. “I don’t like using my powers, Geralt,” he explained softly. Geralt found himself listening to his heartbeat, wanting to know the truth. He had a hard time believing _anything_ so powerful would be okay not using their powers, for better or worse. “They take a lot out of me, and they put me at risk of being discovered. I know the world; I know humans would hunt me if they knew. I prefer… living as I do. Don’t get me wrong: I use my magic, daily, in _small_ ways. To keep this up - ” he gestured at himself “ - and… to make sure I can protect the people I care about.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked.

Jaskier nodded. “Probably, I just - I didn’t see the rush.” He smiled, almost shy. “I mean, we both _literally_ have all the time in the world.”

Geralt hadn’t even thought of that. He had always assumed one day Jaskier would die, and he tried hard not to think about it. It was a big reason he had always pushed Jaskier away, kept him at arm’s length. Jaskier assumed he just found him annoying or didn’t like him, but it wasn’t like that. Not really. He just knew he couldn’t take getting attached to a human, just to see them die in a few measly decades. Even the powerful rarely lasted long; humans had no chance.

“You should come with me,” Geralt said suddenly.

Jaskier looked surprised, but in the best of ways. He swallowed thickly. “You want me to?”

“I know you don’t want to use your powers, and I won’t push your boundaries, but your help on hunts would be… unprecedented.” Geralt stared at him. “We could share the payments, watch each other’s backs.”

Jaskier smiled, slow. “I could make an exception,” he mused, “for my favorite Witcher.”

Geralt smiled back, but their moment didn’t last long - the door opened and Yennefer walked in, hands on her hips. Jaskier looked up and tilted his head curiously.

“Do I know you?”

Yennefer did not look impressed. “No, but I have a favor to ask.”

Geralt turned toward her. “You didn’t even _help_ him,” he said, almost growling. “You don’t get to ask - ”

“Hey,” Jaskier said, reaching out. He placed a hand on Geralt’s leg. “It’s okay; ask away.”

And so, Jaskier ended up helping Yennefer, granting her (unexpected) wish. Yennefer smiled, also unexpected, when he said it had worked. She even hugged Jaskier, and he hugged her back, laughing at Geralt’s look of disbelief.

“Thank you,” she said as they separated. “Let me know if you ever need help.” She cut her eyes at Geralt. “You, not so much.”

Geralt threw his hands in the air. “What the _fuck_.”

Jaskier laughed, feeling light and airy, and pulled away from Yennefer. He hugged Geralt. “Don’t feel so left out,” he assured him. “She might be a cool, pretty, talented, strong - ” Geralt growled, “get to _point_ ,” and he laughed harder “ - sorceress but you’re my one and _only_ big, scary Witcher.”


End file.
